


Corbie

by DrakoniCannibal



Category: Original - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 09:53:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17847173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrakoniCannibal/pseuds/DrakoniCannibal
Summary: Silly poem I wrote out the moment. Nothing too special, just something nice.





	Corbie

I am a blackbird  
In a world full of parrots  
That babble and babble  
Nonsense and gossip

How beautiful they are, truly, to the eye  
Vibrant feathers that breathe in life  
With colors as alive as their conversation  
While, I, amongst them  
Am nothing but a stain  
An ink spilled upon a masterpiece,  
A frowned upon disgrace

Feathers unkempt, ruffled and bitten  
By the plagues that eat at me  
Both physical and imposed   
By the same folk who tried to help me  
Become something worthy

Smile more, they say  
As they do nothing but spit sewage at my frame  
How they talk and babble, chatter and squabble   
Nothing, muching, touching  
what is that there? And what comes next?

Those empty headed fools, always searching for the next thing  
They grow bored of what they are gifted  
And try to change their perfect selfs   
All because of that mindless chatter  
That dictates to be the same

And so I watch from the distance,   
The black stain I am  
Not flying within the azure color,  
But rather with the cover of the night

It is as dark as I am; as unpleasant to the naked eye  
Pessimistic, unruly, and impure, they say  
Where all the heathens come and stay.

But if they were to look past their initial impressions  
Past the lessons they hold so precious,  
They would realize that indeed, even the night cradles beauty in itself  
In the cemeteries, forests  
Where all creatures come to rest  
The deemed disgusting and unwanted  
Come to tell their tales

Bones whispers stories, epics, poems  
Retell tragedies and sins  
But you will only hear them  
If you give your ear to them

The stars are my candles, lighting my wings  
Giving them a luster that the day will only kill  
Wisping in the night  
Twinkling and calling  
For me to fly up high

Cold breezes lift my wings, my body, myself  
Bringing my spirit closer to the heavens in a path  
Than the sun would never allow me to entake 

So at times, I think  
Being a bird of the plague, a symbol of death  
The reaper perched upon the bed stand  
As one takes the final breath  
Is not all that bad  
For although I will never be a parrot  
Of vibrant feathers and galore,  
I will always be the guardian  
Of where all mortals will end up.


End file.
